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10.18.2007

this is the hedonist in me

Yesterday I left work a little later than I would have liked to. I was going straight home, looking forward to an evening of assembling invitations and being without Brian. I had my McDonalds happy meal in the passenger seat (with the fries mostly intact) and my mind was elsewhere. Or, more likely, nowhere.

I felt a little blue inside, thanks to the disastrous home-unmaking effects of a days-long long to-do list and evenings that are far too short. I was completely zoned out and, back in the recesses of my mind, hoping to find an oasis somewhere along the Boulevard.

I approached an intersection framed by large old oak trees, backed by a wide open sky. It was nearly twilight - the sun was almost set. In its decline, it was sending off invisible rays that bounced off all kinds of wisps and feathers and splotches of the most transient of cloud formations. The white had turned to a brilliant bright orange. The slowly darkening, sleepy periwinkle sky had touches of bright orange light, smeared here and there and all over.

It looked like the sky was on fire.

What a cool God who would let me live on a planet where this kind of remarkable thing happens only rarely enough for me to appreciate it.

Hi, there!

I'm Ashley, a single mama to a darling little boy, trying to find my stride in everything from sleep training and lentil soup to knitted socks and theology. Join me as I do some wondering, some reading, a little bit of pot-stirring, and LOTS of praying. St. Theresa of Avila puts it nicely: The feeling remains that God is on the journey too.